Into the Arms of a Cowboy (20 page)

Two hours later, she stepped out into the living room, an eight-by-five photo clutched in her hand. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the image.

Jess, captured forever on film. Jess, the man who’d taught her to love.

In the photo, she’d caught him by surprise. He glowered at her, but teasingly, his firm, sculpted mouth turned up slightly at the corners. She’d caught him as he used his fingers to rake his tousled hair back from his forehead. Sun and shadow highlighted the planes of his rugged face, the face she’d touched just the night before.

“Oh, Jess,” she said aloud. “I miss you already.”

A drop of water splashed the photograph. Cassie raised her fingers to her cheek, and found more wetness there. She hadn’t even known she was crying.

The knock at the door also caught her by surprise. Jess’s photo fluttered to the carpet. The knock came again, thunderously loud in the silent apartment, and Cassie’s heart echoed the pounding.

This is it. They’ve come for me.

For an instant, she considered hiding places. Under the futon? Or the bathroom window--no, never mind. She’d never fit. Just her luck to end up stuck half in, half out, her escape torpedoed by a few extra helpings of Haagen-Dazs.

But she hadn’t come back to San Francisco to run away again. She meant to face the future head on, to tell the truth and fight for her freedom. She’d killed a would-be rapist, not an innocent man.

Cassie forced herself to take several slow, deep breaths. Her pulse still raced, but her hands were steady as she unbolted the door and flung it open.

Jess had just raised his fist to knock a third time when the door opened. Cassie stood before him, young and vulnerable in jeans, bare feet, and a wild mane of hair down around her shoulders. She stared at him, her eyes wide, her cheeks shiny and damp with crying.

He’d planned to greet her coldly. He wanted to punish her for running away, and for the wrenching agony he’d felt as he read her abrupt note. He’d spent an agonizing morning on the phone, followed by a long, tiring drive and a heartbreaking meeting at the District Attorney’s office.

How could he let Cassie off lightly after all she’d put him through? But now, seeing her, he wished he could take her in his arms and hold her tight while he told her what he’d learned.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She spoke through thin, pale lips. She rocked back on her heels until he feared she might faint on him. “I told you--in the note, I asked you not to find me. Go home, Jess. Please.”

Slowly, he nodded. “All right. If that’s what you really want. But first, you have to do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Tell me you don’t love me.”

A haunted shadow of longing, fear, and hope flickered across her features. Pain darkened her eyes before she cast her gaze down, hiding her expression under thick gold lashes. “I--Jess, don’t--”

He stepped forward, caught her chin in his hand, and forced her eyes up to meet his. “Come on, Cassie,” he said, through clenched teeth. “In your note, you said our relationship was a mistake. A mistake--that sends one hell of a clear message, if you ask me. So why not make it perfectly plain?”

She broke away from him, swallowing a sob. Jess winced. Each angry word he threw at her seemed to brand itself on his heart. He couldn’t bear to hurt her, but he also felt he had no choice. He needed to hear the truth, even if he had to wrench it from her.

“What’s the problem,
darlin
’?” He gave the endearment a bitter twist. “Go on, tell me. Tell me you were just using me. Tell me I’m a--
a
‘naive fool’. Those were the words Danielle chose. Want to second her opinion?”

A cry tore itself from Cassie’s throat, an animal sound of pure horror. “Oh, God, no. Oh, Jess, how can you even imagine that I--”

“So why leave me?” He took her by the shoulder and glared into her stricken face. “Not even a goodbye. Just a note saying I’d never see you again. Why?”

“Because. . . .” Her voice cracked, and she would have slumped to the floor if he hadn’t threaded an arm around her waist. “I did it for you. Because I love you,” she whispered against his shoulder, in a tone of utter defeat.

Wild joy pushed out the anger coursing through Jess’s veins. He pulled Cassie tighter against his chest. He brushed her ear with his mouth. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“I love you.” The will to resist had gone out of her. He could feel her complete surrender now, as she pressed herself against him. “I love you,” Cassie said again, a hint of pleasure creeping into her voice. “Jess, I really do. More than anything. But the reason I couldn’t tell you that--the reason I--” She broke off and pulled away from him as a new realization dawning.

“You know already,” she accused him. “You must know, or else how did you find me?”

Jess sobered, his happiness tempered by the knowledge that Cassie was still missing some crucial facts. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

“Of course.” She stood back, let him pass into the living room, then followed him to the living. He settled himself on an orange loveseat. Cassie perched next to him, on the very edge of the couch. “I know it looks bad,” she said, her face pinched and anxious. “But before you judge me, I have to tell you what really happened. It’s not what you think. I mean, I did kill Andrew, but it wasn’t on purpose. I swear it wasn’t.”

“Cassie.” He took her pale hand in his. She was trembling. “I know. I know exactly what happened that night.”

She blinked at him, her expression still frightened. “You do? But the murder charges. . . .”

“There are no charges.”

“What? Of course there are. That’s why I left you. I couldn’t put you through that--a trial, the publicity--not when I’d already made you into an unknowing accomplice. Besides, I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. About how he tried to rape me, and how I--” She choked on her words, unable to go on.

He brought his face close to hers, almost close enough to touch those sweet, gently rounded cheeks he loved so much. “Listen to me very carefully now, Cassie. You were never charged with murder. It’s true that the police were looking for you, but only because one of your friends filed a missing persons report, and then the police detectives matched your photo to the video.”

“The--
the
video?” She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand why I’m not accused of murder. Andrew was dead when I left him. I know he was! I did it. I hit him with the fireplace poker, and when he fell he hit his head again.” She raised her haunted eyes to meet his. “I had his blood on my hands.”

“I know. I saw it happen.”

She shot him a baffled look. “How?”

“Cassie, when Angela showed me the missing persons report, I made a few phone calls. I ended up in the office of the assistant district attorney in charge of the case. She showed me the videotape--the one Andrew Chabot made the night he died.” Jess’s jaw clenched as the horrifying images flitted through his mind. He’d watched the footage with his hands balled into fists, his fingernails cutting red half-moons into his palms.

“But there was no camera,” Cassie protested, her brow creased with anxious puzzlement. “Not that I saw, at least.”

“Turns out that the bastard liked to film his ‘conquests’.” Jess gritted his teeth against the red-hot rage exploding again in his chest. “When police searched the house, they found a camera hidden above the fireplace. Apparently, he used a hidden switch to turn it on when he brought his dates home.”

Amazement and relief transformed Cassie’s face. Color flooded back into her cheeks. “It was all on tape? The way he pushed me down, hit me. . .?”

“That’s right.” Watching, he’d had to fight back the bile rising in his throat. It was one thing to know, abstractly, that an anonymous man had hurt the woman he loved. It was something else to actually watch the attack on film. Afterwards, he’d run to the restroom and lost his lunch. But Cassie didn’t need to know that. She had enough to deal with.

“It’s all there,” Jess continued. “What he did to you, and the way you fought back. A clear case of self-defense. I was--” He cleared his clogged throat. “I was proud of you. And here’s something else. They found other videotapes. On some, the sex was apparently consensual. On others--well, you weren’t the first woman attacked by that pathetic excuse for a human being.”

“He raped them?” Cassie whispered.

Jess nodded grimly. “But he got away with it, before. The women never went to the police. He threatened them, and said no one would believe their story.”

“I thought the same thing.” Cassie shivered, her eyes dark and clouded with regret. “And all this time, I was running from nothing. I left you for nothing.”

Jess’s stomach roiled as he remembered how he’d rushed back to the cabin that morning, only to find Cassie gone. Briefly, furiously, he’d relived Danielle’s desertion. But sorrow and fear had quickly replace
d
his anger. Cassie wasn’t Danielle. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Now he merely shook his head and touched her cheek with gentle fingers. “Cassie, Cassie. . .I wish you’d trusted me, but I understand why you couldn’t. You’ve gone your whole life without anyone to love you the way I do.” He leaned forward, taking both of her hands in his. “
Darlin
’, I wouldn’t care if you were a cold-blooded killer. I’d still love you.”

She let out a strained little laugh. “Really?”

“Yup. Well--” He shrugged and chuckled. “Don’t go getting any ideas, now.”

“Don’t worry,” she teased, her voice still a little wobbly. “My cold-blooded killer days are behind me.”

He adopted a look of mock sternness. “Good. My career with the sheriff’s office might suffer if I marry a murderess.”

“Marry a--” Her eyes widened, brightened, and suddenly swam in sparkling tears. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for running off?”

“It does. I was angry as hell about it, but the thing is, Cassie, you don’t stop loving a person just because you’re angry at her. And I have to admit, your intentions were noble.” He grinned. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“How you could ever think I’d let you get away.”

“Oh, Jess,” she sighed. A moment later, she was in his arms. He wasn’t sure how she got there, but he had no complaints. He twined his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer.

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, savoring the sweet taste of her for an instant before he coaxed her lips apart. His tongue swept over the delicate ridges on the roof of her mouth. She responded with a total surrender that quickened the blood in
his veins and ignited a fire in his belly. But there would be time enough for that later. A whole lifetime of passion.

“You never answered my question,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Which question?”

“The one I asked last night.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew the ring she’d left behind, concealing it in his palm. “Will you marry me, Cassandra Carlisle?”

She pulled away from him. For a long, intense moment she studied his face. Then she slowly nodded. “Yes,” she said, in careful, formal tones. “Yes, Jess, I most certainly will.”

“Give me your hand.”

She obeyed,
and
gasped as he produced the gold and platinum ring. “You brought it!”

“I hoped it might come in handy.” He slid it onto her finger, then glanced at her face. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh, that.” She scrubbed at her cheeks with her palm, smiling through her tears. “I cry at the drop of a hat, remember?”

“Right. Hallmark commercials.”

“And Goldilocks cottages. And marriage proposals.” As she wound her arms around her neck, her smile widening into an expression of true bliss. “Especially marriage proposals.”

“Well, cut it out.” He planted a kiss on the end of her upturned little nose, his heart full almost beyond bearing. “From now on, you won’t have time to cry.”

“Oh?”

“That’s right.” He glanced around her living room. “We’ve got packing to do, a wedding to plan. . . .”

“And a building to rent.” She saw his puzzlement, and laughed. “For my photo studio, silly. The one I’m going to open in downtown Bitter Creek.”

“Right. And contractors to hire.”

“Contractors?”

“Sure. There’s an empty plot of land down by the orchard. I thought maybe a house with lots of windows to let in the sunlight, plus enough room for a bunch of animals. . . .”

Cassie sighed happily. “And--
and
maybe for a baby or two, one of these days?”

“One of these days?” He brushed a satiny strand of hair from her cheek. “How about a whole lot sooner?”

He kissed her again, running his tongue over her teeth and nibbling her upper lip until she moaned and pressed her soft breasts against his chest. “How about we start trying right away?” she whispered.

Jess had no objections.

EPILOGUE

Real stars.

There were real stars above her bed tonight. Cassie stared up through the glass in the ceiling at her kaleidoscopic view of the night sky. She lay with her head pillowed on Jess’s shoulder. Her husband of seven months slept soundly, his breathing deep and even.
It was their first night in their new house next to the apple orchard, in a master bedroom smelling faintly of fresh paint and new-cut pine.